I’ve Always Been Friends With the Weird Ones

Motherhood would not work without a little help from my weird friends

I’ve always been friends with the weird ones. The ones who march to a different beat, give zero shit’s about their shit from yesterday, think penguins and pangolins should be the same animal, and will argue their point until the wee hours of moppy hour (mom’s happy hour that ends promptly at 6 pm).

My friends may or may not have last night’s dinner stuck in their teeth — yet look shockingly well put together to the untrained eye. Luckily, I have a very well-trained eye.

I’ve always been friends with the funny ones. The ones who don’t take themselves seriously, recognize that motherhood is an opportunity for more absurdity and laughter in life, and can make you laugh so hard you sneeze from your vagine. Google it — I dare you.

Nowadays most of my friends are moms because that’s who I interact with in my suburban habitat. My mom friends are weirder and more wonderful than ever. I think I put out a special ‘weirdo’s only’ pheromone that attracts them and frankly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Normal is soooo 2019.

My friends don’t have their summer plans in order yet — even though summer started in Texas three weeks ago.

My friends feed their kids cereal for dinner when their husbands travel, throw blueberries on top with a side of popcorn, and call it perfectly balanced.

My friends’ kids will often show up to school with mismatched shoes — because life threw a pile of monkey shit at them as they were trying to get out the door.

My friends are the ones who were as surprised as I to learn there was a spring concert tomorrow and formal attire was required and naturally we all ran into each other at Target because who has time for laundry?! Everyone but us.

My friends don’t know what they’re doing next week but when you hit them up for a glass of wine day of, they’re always in and may show up with a bottle of tequila instead.

When you ask my friends if they know what chapter the kids should be on for an assignment, they ask you what book they’re supposed to be reading.

They’re the ones you can bleed your heart out to one minute and then find yourself seizing up laughing the next.

My friends are the ones who can lovingly yet firmly reprimand my kids if they step out of line and then continue on as if nothing happened. Not many can pull that off without Mama Shark coming out.

My friends will tell me when I look like a demagorgon instead of a grown woman.

My friends will stage an intervention when my new YouTube makeup hack goes south. They will sit in a circle with concerned looks as they lovingly wipe away the bronzer that’s 10 shades too dark and the plum lipstick that isn’t meant for fluorescent white chicks. “Stick to clear,” they say in unison as they gently stroke my hair.

They will also stage an underwear intervention, leaving you wondering if they care more about your husband’s desires than your comfort, but you begrudgingly buy the overpriced thongs to shut them up. You stuff the thongs into the deepest reaches of your dresser and resume your comfortable full-seat coverage lifestyle.

They are the ones who will come to your aid when you take a store-bought CBD gummy not knowing how strong those fuckers are. Seriously — where’s the GODDAMN warning for amateurs? They will feed your kids and lovingly crack jokes at your expense. These jokes will continue on for many weeks to come — because that’s what good friends do.

My friends will roll their eyes when that over-achieving mom talks about her kids’ schedules, infinite dietary restrictions, and how they’re summering in Japan so the kids can fully immerse themselves in the culture. We will instead take our kids to the nearest Daiso, give them $5, and call it a day.

When we realize Daiso is 45 minutes away we pretend it has closed down.

It’s not to say that I don’t have room for those super-duper type-A Moms who take the world around them so seriously they become a black hole where fun goes to die — and have every minute of their lives planned out and broadcasted on social media — they’re just not usually attracted to me for all the reasons stated above.

Life is neck-breakingly short. Surround yourselves with the ones who make you laugh and simultaneously offer a safe space for your beautiful, messy, flawed, Cheetoh-stained life. If you haven’t found those people yet — move near me. I know a few. We’re always happy to expand our tribe — just put down your guard, grab a glass (or don’t), and come on in.